


That Plant's No Lady

by Persiflager



Category: Nero Wolfe - Rex Stout
Genre: Other, Sex Pollen, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 12:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10437702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/pseuds/Persiflager
Summary: “Archie,” said Wolfe. “I find myself in something of a predicament.” He’d managed to push himself upright into a sitting position. The look in his eyes was somewhat crazed but the hand that held the gun was steady. He was still naked.“I can see that,” I said. “I wish I could see a whole lot less of it.”





	

Theodore was the first to notice.

Every morning Theodore woke up at six o’clock and went down to the kitchen to eat a solitary breakfast of grapefruit juice and muesli. This was a source of continuing conflict with Fritz, who regarded a cold breakfast as being unworthy of the name and muesli as a traitor to the good reputation of Swiss cuisine. Theodore had no particular desire to make Fritz unhappy - he rather liked Fritz, who had a separate hook for each utensil and didn’t require Theodore to make small talk during their shared lunches. But Fritz was unable to prepare breakfast in less than twenty minutes (not including the time required to eat it) and at that time of the morning every minute was precious, so the muesli remained.

Early morning in the orchid rooms was a time of reckoning and revelation, when Theodore could finally see what his wilful charges had been up to in the hours while he had been sleeping. He was in nervous agony the whole time he gulped his breakfast - would all the seedlings have failed? Could a rogue greenfly have snuck in undetected and started an infestation? - and the terror did not begin to subside until he finally mounted the stairs and entered the cool room to begin his rounds. There was not enough time to make more than a cursory inspection of most of the ten thousand plants under his care and so Theodore concentrated on the most vulnerable, the young and the sickly, and trusted the able-bodied adults to their own devices.

On this particular morning there had been no disasters overnight, and Theodore hummed happily as he looked over the adolescent hybrids and took notes. He saved this task for last as it was his favorite - the plants were through the delicate period of infancy and now all that remained was to see what unfurled. Even a familiar bloom would be warmly welcomed and given its place in the greenhouse with the rest, but Theodore lived for the moment when a brand-new flower revealed itself in all its uniquely colored glory, unveiling its petals slowly with a knowing, prideful vanity so as to maximise the anticipation of the transfixed crowd. (Mr Wolfe was accustomed to liken the blooming to the dance of the seven veils and other exotic-sounding activities. Theodore, whose erotic imagination was limited to the memory of an attractive neighbour he had once spotted sunbathing naked in her garden when he was a young man, had pointed out that orchids only have three petals, or six if you include the sepals. Wolfe had sighed and begun a monologue on similes that Theodore hadn’t paid attention to.)

Out of the corner of his eye, a plant caught his attention. It seemed larger than its fellows, and more richly green. Theodore checked his notes - it should have been an experimental cross between _Epipogium aphyllum_ and _Platanthera azorica_ , which he had tried before without success, but it didn’t look like either of its supposed parents. He pursed his lips at Archie’s slipshod record-keeping and bent over for a closer look.

The plant was about six inches high, with four shiny leaves and three tightly curled buds. As Theodore watched, one of the buds began to open. A slim tendril emerged and waved about in the air, as if scenting it. Theodore made an inarticulate sound in the back of his throat and the tendril froze. Then - shyly, cautiously - it stretched out towards him.

Later, Theodore would find it impossible to explain the impulse that led him to reach out his hand. He only knew that in that moment that he couldn’t have done anything else. The tendril stroked the back of his hand, then the palm, then wrapped itself around each of his fingers in turn. It was soft and silky yet strong, and the more it touched his skin the more Theodore found himself giddy with joy, a great overwhelming ecstasy that exceeded anything he had felt before in his life. It flowed through his fingers to the rest of his body and he found to his surprise that he was erect, which happened rarely and certainly never in the hot-houses. It didn’t seem to matter though, and he quickly stopped worrying about it.

He heard the grumbling clank of the elevator arriving and the tendril around his wrist tightened.

“Don’t worry,” said Theodore to the plant, grinning inanely. What a wonderful morning it was! “That’s Mr Wolfe. He’s going to be so pleased to see you.”

…

I didn’t notice anything that morning. Or the next, or the one after that. It was over a week later before I finally realised something was up, which probably means I should turn in my detective licence. When we discussed the matter later Wolfe disagreed, saying that he had had a profound desire at the time that I should not notice anything, and that his powers of dissimulation had always been great. Nuts, I said, and we still hadn’t reached an agreement by the time Fritz called to say that dinner was ready.

Wolfe might be right, though. I’ve been over it in my head and I don’t think there was anything to notice at first. Everything was normal. We didn’t have a case on at the time, and the bank balance was high enough I didn’t have cause for riding Wolfe to take one. He stuck to his routine like clockwork, I did the hundred and one little jobs that kept the clockwork going as smoothly as it did, and Fritz experimented with clam recipes as clams were in season. I suspect that if I’d encountered Theodore during that time then I would have noticed something, but he only came down for meals and I avoided the kitchen when he was there as he sucks clams out of their shells in a way that I find offensive.

What finally pinged my attention was when Wolfe didn’t come down to the office until six minutes past eleven.

Wolfe didn’t comment on the time. He merely bid me good morning and crossed the room to take up residence in his chair, where he opened his mail, tested his pen and buzzed for beer as usual.

I stared.

Wolfe ignored me.

I checked my watch against the clock in the office, then got up and went close enough to squint at Wolfe’s watch. They all agreed that the world as I knew it had been shattered.

Wolfe continued to act as if nothing had happened. I retreated to my chair to consider the matter.

It wasn’t just the lateness, I realised after a couple of minutes. There are plenty of ways that could have happened - say, if Theodore tripped and spilled fertiliser over Wolfe just as he was leaving and Wolfe had to retreat to his room for a clean shirt. No, the lateness in itself could be explained, but Wolfe not mentioning it? Wolfe not complaining at length about whatever disaster had befallen him? Impossible. So, it wasn’t just an accident, and whatever it was Wolfe didn’t want me to know.

I looked him over to see if I’d missed anything and eventually spotted the third item of note, which I would have noticed sooner if I hadn’t been so blown by Wolfe being tardy. He hadn’t brought down an orchid for his desk. That had never happened before, not in all the years I’d been working for him. Suspicious circumstance number three. Three meant it wasn’t a coincidence - something was up.

Of course, I couldn’t just come right out and ask him. Clearly Wolfe knew and had no intention of informing me and therefore tactics were required.

“Archie,” said Wolfe. “This woman says that she’s willing to pay me fifty thousand dollars to find her lost cat. Is she out of her mind?”

I crossed the room to look at the letter he was holding out and whistled when I saw the name at the bottom. “Her bank balance says no, she’s just eccentric. Like you.”

He frowned.

I could appreciate his dilemma. Fifty grand for an easy job might mean that he could avoid doing any real work for months, but it would mean having a woman in his office, and an eccentric one at that.

“Very well,” he said crossly, as if I’d been nagging him with my eyes, which I hadn’t. “Your notebook.”

…

Over lunch Wolfe treated me to the history of cats in ancient Egypt and the reasons for their veneration. I thought the ancient Egyptians had a screw loose, and said so, because cats in my experience are vicious, dumb and contrary. Wolfe said that I was biased from being scratched as a child, which was only partially true, and the ensuing argument carried us through coffee and back into the office.

Wolfe settled into his chair with his latest book, smacked his lips, and rang for beer.

I started working through the germination records on my desk and after about five minutes made a tutting sound.

Wolfe ignored me.

“Theodore must have written this in a hurry. The ink’s smudged and I can’t read his hand-writing.”

Wolfe didn’t stir or show any interest in the card I had in my hand, which was a shame as it had taken a cute bit of sleight-of-hand to spill ink on it without him noticing that morning.

“I’ll just go up now and ask him,” I said, pushing back my chair and rising.

Wolfe’s beady eyes followed me out of the room.

..

Theodore appeared before I’d taken three steps into the cool room.

“Go away,” he said.

“Good afternoon to you too,” I said, looking him over. Theodore wasn’t usually much to look at, probably on account of spending all his time inside playing with plants, but the one thing I would have said for him was that at least he was neat and tidy. Now his hair was wild, there was a button missing on his shirt and he had huge bags under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept for a week.

“You can’t be here,” he said, making a shoo-ing motion with his hands.

“I can and I am, even though your hospitality leaves something to be desired. Why not?”

Theodore paused and looked up and to the right, frowning with effort as he thought and swaying like he was caught in an invisible breeze. “Ciphogene!” he said after about a minute. “Yes, that’s right. I’m spraying with ciphogene today. Very dangerous. Go away.”

He smiled, obviously pleased with himself for having come up with such a convincing lie.

“Nice try,” I said, and I made to move past him but Theodore suddenly backed up and produced my .38 from his waistband.

I paused. I don’t like realising I missed something, and I don’t like other people handling my things, and I don’t like guns being pointed at me, and I really don’t like guns being in the hands of people who don’t know how to handle them. There wasn’t anything about this situation that I did like except for the scenery.

“I’m sorry,” said Theodore, and he looked it. “But I just can’t let you go in there.”

“OK.”

“Yeah?” Theodore relaxed a little. The gun in his hand was wobbling like Fritz’s panna cotta.

“Sure.” I took a step back to show that I meant it. “You just want me to be safe, right? I must have mis-understood.”

“That’s right.” Theodore beamed at me. If it wasn’t for the gun, I would have counted this as one of the friendliest conversations we’d ever had.

“Say, Theodore, pal. Where’d you get the gun?”

“Mr Wolfe left it up here.”

“Did he give it to you? Did he ask you to use it to keep me out of here.”

Theodore frowned. “No. No, I don’t think so. He left it, and I found it.”

“Swell. Would you like me to take it back down to him? I bet he’d be pleased.”

Theodore made a little motion with his hand towards me then snatched it back. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’d better keep it here. That seems right.”

“Sure, no problem.” I waited to see if he had anything else to say, then skedaddled.

..

I strolled into the office. “Theodore seems a little on edge,” I said casually as I sat down. “Maybe all the excitement is finally getting to him.”

Wolfe grunted. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him watching me, which meant that he could see me watching him. I looked away and got on with my typing.

At this point you might be wondering if I had any inkling of what was going on up there. The answer is nope, nada, not a clue. Not in a thousand years could I have imagined what was waiting for me on the top floor. I don’t have the sort of imagination that could think of such a thing. Wolfe, maybe, but then he’s the artistic type and also a genius. I’m just a great detective with a trustworthy phiz and above-average typing speed, so all I had to fall back on was intelligence guided by experience. Experience had very little to contribute, other than noting that if Theodore had flipped there was a very nice asylum in New Jersey that would be close to his mother. Intelligence told me that I needed to get in that warm room.

“Will you be at Saul’s tonight?”

“Yeah, unless you need me here. I think I’ve nearly figured out his tell. Just another couple hundred bucks and I’ll have him on the ropes.”

The corner of Wolfe’s mouth lifted a fraction. It was the first time I’d seen him smile in over a week.

..

I ate with Fritz in the kitchen that evening, like I always do on Thursdays when we don’t have a case on because I have to leave early to get to Saul’s and Wolfe can’t bear to see food being bolted.

“Have you noticed anything odd about our pet whale this week?” I asked in between bites.

Fritz looked at me over the top of his French newspaper. “He has been very hungry in the mornings, Archie. I have had to bring him him extra toast. Is he ill?”

“No, just greedy. How about Theodore? I spoke to him this morning and he damn near bit my head off.”

“I have hardly seen Theodore all week,” said Fritz, putting down the newspaper. “I thought you knew. He has been monitoring an experiment and cannot leave even for meals. I have been taking up his food on a tray. It is not good, Archie, to always be eating like that.”

“You sound like Wolfe.”

“Mr Wolfe is very wise. Is something wrong?”

I didn’t want to worry Fritz, but I didn’t like lying to him either. “I don’t know. Something’s up with the two of them, and I don’t know what. But I’m going to find out.”

Fritz beamed at me. “Of course you will, Archie.”

..

I didn’t go to Saul’s. Instead I went to the drugstore on the corner and phoned him from there to let him know that I wasn’t going to be able to make it, then killed an hour drinking milk at the counter before heading home.

When I got back to the brownstone the only lights showing were from the top floor and the basement where Fritz would have been reading his cookbooks. I snuck in the back door. The lock opened without a squeak, which was not surprising as I had taken the precaution of oiling it before I left. Without turning any lights on, I got my spare gun from the office and headed upstairs.

I felt foolish as I tip-toed up three flights of stairs in the dark in my own home, with a gun in my holster ready to shoot - what? Some orchids? I certainly wasn’t going to shoot Wolfe, or I’d never hear the end of it. Theodore, maybe. I felt a renewed appreciation for Wolfe - at least when I felt foolish working for him, as I not infrequently did, I had someone else to blame it on.

There were no lights on in the cool room. I could see light leaking around the edges of the door to the warm room so I knew where Wolfe and Theodore were. I pressed my ear up against the door to listen.

“Oh!” cried Theodore at a pitch I had never heard from him before and wished I wasn’t hearing then. “Oh, my!”

Wolfe grunted. “That’s right, my lovely,” he crooned. “My beauty. My-” He switched to babbling his sweet nothings in another language, or possibly my brain had decided to protect me by turning the sounds I was hearing into gibberish, in which case I owed it big-time.

I don’t want you to think that I am prudish or sheltered. I have come across a number of fairies in my time and have no opinion on what they get up to in the privacy of their own bedrooms, just as I do not consider it anyone else’s business what I get up to in mine. If I’d found out by chance that either Wolfe or Theodore was light in his loafers then I would have been surprised and my ego would have been bruised by not having noticed before, but I would not have recoiled in horror.

Faced with the possibility of Wolfe and Theodore being actively homosexual together and conducting their illicit relationship by way of midnight romps among the orchids, I am not ashamed to admit that I gave serious thought to packing my bags and fleeing back to Ohio. The only thing stopping me was my damn curiosity. As much as I didn’t want to open that door and see what was happening in there, I wanted to find out what had happened to my gun even more.

I opened the door a crack and a wave of warm air washed over my face. All I could see was orchids but I was in not in the mood to appreciate them. I opened the door gradually, still couldn’t see Wolfe or Theodore, and eventually stepped into the room.

I found them down one of the side aisles. I saw Wolfe first. To be more precise, I saw a mountain of wobbling pink flesh and decided that was probably Wolfe, then spotted Theodore a little further on. They weren’t touching, which was a relief, but they were both naked and writhing around on the floor in a way that made me want to turn the hose on them.

By now I’d realised what you’d probably already figured out, which was that they were high. They’d been dosed with something, who knew how, and weren’t within a hundred blocks of their right minds. 

I approached cautiously.

“Hey boss,” I said.

Wolfe’s only response was a low moan. I noticed a thick green tendril wrapped around his left ankle, and looked at Theodore. He had a matching accessory round his right wrist. The more I looked, the more I saw - green creepers of various thickness, wrapped round their limbs and disappearing underneath them. The tendrils ran across the floor and up into one of the stands where there was an orchid I’d never seen before.

It was nearly twice as tall as the other plants around it and had green flowers that were so bright they nearly glowed. I call it an orchid because it resembled one but I’ve never heard of an orchid that came with complimentary vines. There were at least a dozen of them climbing out of the pot like they were roots and they’d been sent in search of water. As I watched, one of them detached itself from its brothers and started wriggling in my direction.

“Nothing doing,” I said.

The vine paused for a moment, as if it had heard me, then continued making its way across.

I looked around and found a pair of clippers left lying on one of the nearby tables. I grabbed them, made my way back to where the vine had now reached the end of the bench and was stretching out into space, and I chopped it in half.

Three things happened simultaneously - the remaining length of vine shot back to the plant like a piece of cut elastic, Wolfe bellowed like a wounded elephant, and Theodore launched himself at me.

Theodore is a small, sickly-looking man, but he hit my mid-section like a naked three-hundred-pound linebacker. I went down. As I hit the floor I pushed him off and gave him a little tap in the kidney area to quiet him down. It did the trick and Theodore stopped making a nuisance of himself in favour of curling up into a ball and breathing heavily. I grabbed a ball of twine that had been left lying around on top of one of the benches and took the opportunity to tie Theodore’s hands and feet. When I was happy that he wasn’t going to cause me any more trouble, I stood up to survey the situation and found Wolfe pointing my gun right at me.

“Archie,” said Wolfe. “I find myself in something of a predicament.” He’d managed to push himself upright into a sitting position. The look in his eyes was somewhat crazed but the hand that held the gun was steady. He was still naked.

“I can see that,” I said. “I wish I could see a whole lot less of it.”

“I have no wish to shoot you. Wounding you would merely postpone this conflict to another day and would create numerous logistical difficulties. Killing you would create only one such problem - the disposal of your body - but would cause me considerable emotional distress, not to mention the damage to my self-esteem.”

“I wouldn’t be too pleased about it either,” I said. “May I suggest that we find an alternative course of action? For instance, I’d be happy to go back downstairs, drink a quart of bourbon and forget that I ever saw anything. More than happy, I’d be delighted.”

Wolfe sighed. “Unfortunately, I know you too well to believe that. You are far too tenacious to let this go, as indeed would I be in your shoes. No, I fear we are at a stalemate.”

“Look,” I said, but I didn’t get any further with that thought because Wolfe’s eyes flickered and I spied the thin green tendril making its way across the floor towards me. “Oh, I see. You’re just talking as a distraction while your girlfriend here puts the moves on me.”

“Would you rather be shot?”

“I would not.” Having no choice, I stood still while the creeper made its way under the hem of my trousers until it finally touched my skin and I made an undignified noise.

“You see?” said Wolfe in the far distance.

“Umpf,” I said. Maybe Wolfe’s vocabulary had words to cover what I was feeling but mine didn’t. It felt like dancing with ten Lily Rowans at once, none of them dressed for church, in a Flamingo Club made of exploding fireworks. It felt like drinking a bucket of brandy and champagne down in one go. It felt like I should go somewhere private.

I forced my eyelids open and squinted at Wolfe. He’d put the gun down and was writhing around with all the happiness of a dog in a muddy puddle, making the sort of sounds he normally reserves for scallops. It was a revolting spectacle, and it brought me to my senses just enough to let me move.

I took a deep breath and sprinted forward. I grabbed the strange green plant and kept running, ignoring the noises behind me. Vines tangled themselves around my neck and wrists as I ran, sticking to my skin with what felt like tiny suckers. One made its way down the back of my shirt and underneath my belt. I could feel rebellion rising below my waist but, contrary to what Wolfe thinks and frequently says, I do not allow my brain to take orders from my nether regions and had no intention of starting for an importunate plant.

When I reached the far end of the room I wrenched open the door to the incinerator chute, yanked the creepers off of me and chucked the whole thing straight down to the furnace.

“Sorry,” I told the empty chute, “but I’m just not the marrying kind.”

I grabbed a nearby hose and turned it on Wolfe and Theodore before dousing myself, and the shock of the cold water calmed me down enough to think. While they were flopping around wetly like a beached whale and its calf, I retrieved my spare gun and stowed it away safely. I called Doc Vollmer and told him that we’d all been drugged and could use some medical assistance, then rang down to Fritz and told him to make sure the furnace was on full blast before finally sitting down to wait for the doctor.

…

Wolfe and Theodore slept for nearly twenty-four hours. I slept only my usual eight and a half, as I had not been exposed as much as either of them and also someone needed to man the office.

“Archie,” said Wolfe with a nod when he finally came down.

“Wolfe,” said I. If I’d been hoping for rapturous acclaim and gratitude I’d have been disappointed, but I hadn’t so I wasn’t. “How are you feeling?”

“Sane again, thank god.” He squinted at me. “I suppose your frequent exposure to parasitic females gave you a degree of resistance that neither Theodore nor I could hope for.”

I ignored that for the low swipe it was. “And how’s Theodore? If he’s wondering about new hybrids, tell him that I think that last experiment was a bust.”

Wolfe pulled a face. “That wasn’t an experiment, it was a seed from Santorini’s last expedition to Nicaragua that had been placed among the hybrids by mistake. I shall have to write to him and complain. Theodore appears to remember nothing from the past week.”

“Lucky Theodore,” I said, and pulled out my typewriter.

“Dear Mr Santorini-”

…

Theodore accepted Mr Wolfe’s explanation of a particularly nasty flu strain that had laid them both up for a week and left him with mild amnesia with the same stolid calm he treated all things not immediately relevant to orchids. Luckily the plants had not suffered too greatly from being neglected, other than a few pots which had apparently been smashed when Mr Wolfe fainted in the warm room. It was a shame that the Nicaraguan plant had been destroyed, but Theodore had had some doubts about whether or not it would be suitable for cross-breeding anyway.

Archie looked at Theodore oddly whenever they ran into each other in the kitchen, but Theodore had always considered Archie to be an odd individual so that was not a matter for concern. Theodore ate with Fritz as normal, and worked, and slept, and all was as it should be.

But every now and then Theodore woke with the sensation of a dream slipping away from him, and he found himself thinking of green leaves and Mrs Lobotsky sunbathing in her garden, and he felt a great sadness as if he had lost something wonderful but couldn’t quite remember what it was.

And then Theodore got out of bed, went downstairs and ate his muesli, and went to take care of his orchids.


End file.
